


Staying Steady

by waroftheposes



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 02:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16652737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waroftheposes/pseuds/waroftheposes
Summary: There is always a moment of panic.Ander is waiting in the cafe across the street from the Shana grocery store, watching to see when Omar’s dad leaves. But Ander comes every day to see Omar anyways, and he'll come all summer. Ander will continue coming until Omar's punishment is over. The alternative would be not seeing Omar, which is not an option at all.





	Staying Steady

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Rendezvous" by Years & Years

There is always a moment of panic.

Ander is waiting in the cafe across the street from the Shana grocery store, watching to see when Omar’s dad leaves. Every day he worries that the man won’t leave, or that as he’s leaving, he’ll look through the cafe’s window and recognize Ander, or that he’ll leave and come back when Ander’s already inside.

Every day he worries, and every day he enters the store after watching Omar’s dad leave. If Guzman was not consumed by his own grief, he’d probably harass Ander, asking him why he was doing this to himself. Ander can hear Guzman’s incredulous voice in his head, asking why he thought this agony was worth it.

But Guzman is too depressed to pay attention to Ander’s affairs, and anyways, maybe he wouldn’t be surprised. If he wasn’t consumed by his own grief, he’d probably be consumed by thoughts of Nadia.

So maybe he’d get it.

Ander feels his heart beating loudly in his chest when he sees the door to the store opening. Omar’s father is leaving. Ander stands. He leaves the cafe before Mr. Shana has rounded the corner and walks into the store feeling both excited and nervous.

Despite the original panic--the one that comes to him as he waits outside the store--the thought of seeing Omar, talking to him, holding him, is enough to clear the nervousness and put a smile on Ander’s face. And even though he’s been coming to the the store for a week now, when he does see Omar again, sees him turning, sees the smile spread across his face, Ander is momentarily stunned.

But it’s only for a moment. In the next, Omar is saying hello, reaching out a hand to grab Ander’s, leading him to the back of the store, away from the customers, and into the apartment.

Ander follows, silent. He can’t stop looking at at the back of Omar’s head, at his neck. Guzman’s never asked why he likes Omar so much. His mom, after making the objection about Omar’s drug dealing, has never asked the question either. No one has asked, but if they had, Anderwouldn’t have been able to give them an answer.

Why do people fall in love? Is it because they’re attracted to each other? Because they support the same soccer teams? Because they go to the same high school, wear the same clothes, have the same cars? Do people fall in love because their parents are friends, because they go to the same parties, to the same country clubs?

Ander doesn’t know.

Why does he like Omar so much?

He’s not sure.

Why did Ander fall in love with him?

When he saw Omar that first night, after he’d sold Ander the drugs, he’d been intrigued. The shock of seeing someone he knew, then the shock of having that person leave had made him curious. He remembers wanting to know more.

And then… Omar had laughed with him, laughed at his joke. When they’d talked, Ander had felt like Omar listened. Ander had never really wanted anyone before, had not texted someone with trepidation, had not felt that slight tinge of happiness when he received a reply. Yet he’d found himself smiling when he read Omar’s messages, found that when he knew he’d see Omar, his day seemed happier and more promising.

The intrigue led to his getting to know Omar, who was so brave and yet so scared. Ander fell in love without realizing it, and now that he knew what he wanted, there was no way he’d let it go.

“How was your day?” Omar asks. He tangles their fingers as they settle on the bed, Omar sitting on it, Ander, with his head on Omar’s knees and his legs dangling over the side of the bed.

Ander shrugs. The honest truth is that the day doesn’t really begin for him until he sees Omar.

He knows that this wouldn’t be true if he could see Omar whenever he wanted. If they could text everyday, if they could talk regularly, if Omar could come over to Ander’s house, then Ander wouldn’t be counting the seconds every day until Omar’s dad left for the bank. He could pay attention to other, non-Omar related things.

If only they could see each other more often.

If only Omar was free.

“My dad keeps asking me about tennis,” Ander begins. He brings their joined hands up to his mouth and softly kisses it. It makes Omar smile. “I think he’s hoping that one day I’ll wake up and forget I hate it.”

Omar hums in response, his eyes on his and Ander’s tangled hands. “What did you tell him?”

“That I don’t want to play tennis anymore.”

“Good,” Omar says. “What did he say?”

“He didn’t really say anything. He just kind of left.”

“Weird,” Omar responds. His gaze leaves their hands briefly and trains itself on the wall. “Maybe he _is_ hoping that one day you’ll just magically change your answer.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Ander turns his head so that he can rest his cheek on Omar’s thigh. Omar detangles their hands and runs his own through Ander’s hair.

“You won’t change your mind though, will you?” he says softly. His nails scratch against Ander’s scalp and Ander sighs.

“No,” he says. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Omar asks.

“Will you change your mind about coming home with me once in a while?”

Omar laughs, a quiet, bitter laugh. “I’m not the one who has to change their mind.”

“I know,” Ander says softly, and he’s overcome by the urge to kiss Omar. He sits up, stroking Omar’s cheek with one hand.

“What?” Omar says, though his eyes are trained on Ander’s lips.

“Kiss me,” Ander whispers and before Omar has a chance to respond, Ander closes the distance between them himself and kisses him.

Their lips meet and the kiss lasts for a moment, for an hour. It feels as if almost no time has passed and yet Omar is pulling away, looking at clock on the wall. “You should go.” he says.

Ander shakes his head, resting his forehead on Omar’s shoulder. “I don’t want to.”

Omar’s hands grip Ander’s back, holding him tight. “I know, but you have to. I can’t get in even more trouble.”

Ander doesn’t say anything. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead more firmly on Omar’s shoulder.

“If I got into more trouble, then we wouldn’t be able to see each other again.”

And it’s either the truth of the statement or the fear of it that finally convinces Ander to move. He lifts his head from Omar’s shoulder, kisses him once, twice, holding Omar’s face between his hands, and Omar has to remind him again that he needs to go, that his father will be back any minute.

Ander grabs Omar’s hand as they leave the room. Omar doesn’t protest, which is odd for him, but Ander won’t question it. He’s too busy trying to memorize the feel of Omar’s hand and his smile until they see each other again tomorrow.

He barely registers that he’s outside, that Omar is gone now until tomorrow.

But the high of seeing him carries Ander all the way home.

\--

That night, Ander gets a text from Nadia’s phone. _“My parents are going to a family friend’s house tomorrow afternoon for dinner, will you be free?”_

Ander has not written a faster _yes_ in his life.

 _“Is your house free?”_ Comes the next text.

Ander smiles as he writes back, “ _YES.”_

Ander stares at Omar’s “ _cool, see you then,_ ” for entirely too long before his parents call him down for dinner.

\---

Ander means to talk to Omar when he shows up. They’ve had so little time together for the past week, such little chance to chat. They’ve seen each other every day, but Ander feels like the small, brief encounters leave him missing Omar even more. He wants to hear Omar talk about himself at length, and for once, not worry that their time will be up.

He’s sitting on the steps leading up to the deck, facing the front gate, waiting for Omar. His leg is tapping impatiently. He had tried to wait for Omar inside the house, but he’d spent the whole time by the window, looking at the gate. So he had decided to move to the front steps.

He’s unbelievably excited for this afternoon. There’s no way he’ll lie to himself about it.

So he’s waiting outside.

Impatiently.

The moment he sees Omar behind the gate any plans he had of talking vanish. Ander all but runs to him, holding Omar tightly between his arms. He wants to hold and be held, to feel Omar’s skin against his. The desire grows when Omar turns his head and brushes his lips against Ander’s cheek. Ander turns his head and catches Omar’s lips between his own, kissing him, putting all his desires and frustration, all his longing into the kiss. It’s Omar who opens his mouth, who decides to deepen the kiss.

Ander lets him, lets himself be kissed for a long time, his hands on Omar’s waist. But he remembers the empty house, and with that knowledge the desire to do more than kiss Omar returns. He wants to feel Omar all around him, to lie down with him, kiss him on more than just his lips.

But he can’t pull away. His mind tells him to, says that he should stop kissing Omar, that he should take Omar inside, but the rest of him won’t obey. It’s actually Omar who pulls away.

“Should we go inside?” He asks. He smiles when Ander frowns and turns his head away when Ander tries to kiss him again.

“Ander?”

“What?”

“Let’s go inside?”

Yes. Ok. Inside. That’s probably a good idea. But going inside means he has to detangle himself from Omar. He doesn’t want to stop touching Omar for long enough to get inside. He tells Omar that and leans in for another kiss.

“When we get inside,” Omar says, rolling his eyes. “You can touch me as much as you want.”

“Fair,” Ander says, and allows Omar to lead him into his own house.

Omar was right, being inside is better. He remembers where Ander’s room is which makes Ander unbelievably happy. When they get there, Omar turns to him. “Did you wanna talk?” He says with a smile. Ander is too preoccupied looking at that smile, so it takes him a moment to understand what Omar said.

“You’re messing with me,” he responds and grabs Omar’s waist. He means to take off Omar’s shirt, but Omar takes a step back.

“What are you doing?” he asks. He still has that smile on his face.

“It’s hot,” Ander says.

“So get some water.”

“I’d rather take your clothes off.”

Omar laughs, and it’s so free and careless that it hurts Ander’s heart. “How will that make _you_ less hot?”

Ander shrugs. “It’ll make _you_ more hot.”

Omar laughs again, actually takes another step back and leans against Ander’s bed because he’s laughing so hard. Ander laughs with him, and when Omar’s done laughing out loud, his eyes are still filled with mirth.

Ander wishes he could always look like that.

But the next moment, Omar is kissing him hard and taking off Ander’s shirt and there’s no more talk of the heat.

After they’ve kissed so much that Ander’s lips hurt, they lie together on Ander’s bed, holding hands. Ander enjoys the quiet now that his original desperation is alleviated. He’s happy to share this moment with Omar, likes that no one has to leave and no one’s parent is coming in ten minutes. Ander wishes so badly that it could always be like this for them.

The knowledge that it can’t be dampens Ander’s mood enough that he speaks.

“What are we gonna do?” He asks.

“I’m not sure,” Omar says. “My dad is pretty much set on holding me hostage until I graduate.”

“Or he marries you off,” Ander says bitterly.

Omar raises his hand, playing with Ander’s curls. “Or he marries me off,” he says, sounding tired. “At least he gave up on that for now.”

Ander nods, dropping his gaze. “For now.”

“Nadia helped,” he says. “She keeps helping.”

“She’s a good sister,” Ander says nodding. He turns his head into Omar’s shoulder, kisses it. “Tell her I said thanks.”

Omar hums and is silent. Then, “Are you tired of it?”

Ander moves his head, stretches himself over Omar’s torso. “Tired of what?”

“Of only seeing me for ten minutes every day?”

“No.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I’d get tired of it if I were you,” Omar continues.

“I’m not tired of it,” Ander says. “I look forward to it. It’s the best part of my day.”

Omar furrows his brows. “Waiting all afternoon just so my dad leaves, so you can see me for a few minutes is the best part of your day?”

“Yeah, asshole,” Ander scoffs. “Because I love you.”

The comment makes Omar smile, but the smile is fleeting. It is there for a second and then gone. “For how long, though?”

Ander blinks at him. He doesn’t like the question. Doesn’t know how to answer it. Doesn’t like that it has been asked. “You know,” he says finally. “When I fell in love I didn’t set a time limit for it.”

“Yeah but,” Omar starts. “How many of these days can you endure?”

“As many as it takes,” Ander says. He suddenly regrets starting this conversation. It was a bad idea. Now he wants to go back to just holding Omar, to pretending that this afternoon is not unique, that it happens all the time.

“You say that now,” Omar begins. “But…”

“But what?” Ander turns around, resting his body on his elbows, so that he can look directly at Omar. “I promise you that I’ll be there every day until the summer ends. And then afterwards, I’ll be there every day too, even if your dad doesn’t leave, just so I can see you.”

Omar smiles, closing his eyes. His smile sets Ander’s heart racing, sets his body on fire, and he feels like he can’t contain himself inside his own skin. He wants to stand, to run around, so full is he of emotion. Instead, he leans down and kisses Omar. “I promise I will,” he says sincerely.

Omar opens his eyes. “I don’t believe you.” But he’s joking, Ander can see it in his eyes.

“Let’s make a bet then,” Ander says. “If I come see you at the store every day for the next two months, you have to stop saying I’ll get tired of you.”

Ander knows that Omar is considering the offer because he responds, “What if I win?”’

“Then we both lose,” Ander says, because he wants to keep his end of the bargain. He wants to see Omar every day, even if it’s for ten minutes.

“That doesn’t sound like a fair bet,” Omar responds.

“Does it have to be?”

Omar shrugs to the best of his ability.

“It doesn’t,” Ander says confidently. “So is that a yes?”

Omar shrugs again, but he nods his head.

“I’ll win,” Ander says, and kisses Omar again.

\--

The waiting is the worst part.

After two months of coming to the Shana store, of waiting in the cafe while Omar’s father gets ready to leave for the bank, Ander no longer feels the moment of panic.

But now that the panic is gone, all he feels is yearning.

Ander yearns to see Omar, to feel Omar’s smile against his lips, to hear his voice. His excitement to see Omar has not diminished after two months.

Today though, the waiting feels endless. Ander has been at the cafe for what feels likes hours, and still there’s no sign of Mr. Shana.

Ander waits. He keeps an eye on the store. He plays mindless games on his phone.

He watches the time.

An hour passes, then another.

Only in the third hour does Ander begin to realize that perhaps Omar’s father is not leaving for the bank today. Something must have come up. But Ander doesn’t want to leave yet, not without seeing Omar, so he sends Nadia’s phone a text, letting her and Omar know that he’s still waiting.

Another hour passes without a sign of Omar’s father or a text from Nadia’s phone.

At around five in the afternoon, Ander gets a text from Nadia. It says that their dad is not leaving for the bank today because he’s sick.

Ander asks if he should leave, even though he doesn’t want to.

He waits, agonizing over what the answer will be for what seems like another hour.

But it’s not another hour, it’s probably a few minutes, and then there’s a tap on his shoulder and Ander turns, surprised, to find Omar standing behind him, smiling hesitantly.

He doesn’t know what to do for a moment. Then he remembers.

“I won,” he says, and stops himself from hugging Omar.

“You did,” Omar says, and leans forward to hug him. If the hug is a bit longer than a normal, friendly one, Ander is pretty sure no one else in the cafe cares.

“You came here every day for two months.”

Ander shrugs. “Told you.” And then. “Now what?”

“My dad is a bit too sick to leave his room any time soon,” Omar says, and before he can finish his sentence, Ander knows what he’s going to say. He’s pretty surprised, even after the two months and the risk they took during it, that Omar is about to suggest this. “Do you wanna come in for a bit?”

Right now, at this moment, Ander doesn’t give a shit about the risk. He just wants to spend time with Omar. “Sure.”

Omar smiles and leads Ander back towards his father’s store, and the room waiting for them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Pining for someone you know loves you, but who you can't be with is literally my favorite trope in the world. 
> 
> \--
> 
> I was very sad at the meager amount of fic I found for Elite, and then the realization hit me that instead of complaining about it I should contribute.
> 
> Anyways hope you enjoyed this very small contribution.
> 
> You can find me here on [tumblr](http://waroftheposes.tumblr.com/) I'm spending a lot of time thinking about Elite rn.


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